Allowed Intimacy
by LeakySneakyOprichniki
Summary: A year passed after they jumped the broom and christened the honeymoon suite, and Cid still wasn't sure when, or how he was allowed to touch his wife. Rated M for Adult Content.


**Heh, I'm so shameless. Enjoy**

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Cid really liked when Shera wore shorts. _Short_, shorts. That black spandex pair she kept to busy-body around the house in during the summer. He slyly cut his eyes in her direction whenever she passed, just so he could get a fleeting gander at the way the extra fat on her thighs wiggled, or the smooth curve of her calves; right down to the rough tapering of her work worn ankles. He had always snuck glances here and there before, when their relationship consisted of uncouth master and guilty servant, but there was no way in hell he would have let Shera know she was attractive.

Of course, things were different now. She and he were married, and with marriage came some sort of allowed intimacy. He probably could have openly stared, but the two of them were taking things at a steady, experimental pace. Kissing was fine, touches here and there, and neither minded sharing a shower. Still, half a year passed after they jumped the broom and christened the honeymoon suite, and Cid still wasn't sure when, or how he was allowed to_ touch_ his wife.

"I switched out the coils in the system, and lubricated some of the pistons, Captain. I don't know if they'll work after being tended to, but you can turn on the ignition and give it a try." Shera chirped. She dug out a rag from a rusty tool drawer in the kitchen to wipe smears of carbon exhaust from her glasses. Her body was turned, back facing Cid who was having a smoke break at the table, while she tossed the tools she had used away in the proper drawer.

"Ah..yah. I'll get to the hunk of junk later." He heard the _lubricated_, and _piston_ part, but Cid wasn't totally paying attention. Oh god, she was wearing that cut t-shirt, too? The very same one Shera had gotten from some pansy ass volunteer group in Rocket Town some while back. The sleeves were snipped away, showing much of the lacy bra strap around her middle, the soft skin of her sides, and that _god-awful_ tan line on her shoulders.

"Captain?" Why the hell was she still calling him that? Shera turned from the counter, and wiped sweat from her brow with her forearm; smearing oil on her cheeks. The shitty ventilation in the work room had made her sweat; tousling her pony tail, and dampening her neck and the small of her back. A soft tongue licked the edge of full, parched lips. She had asked Cid a few questions and he had yet to answer.

"Hn?" He plucked a whittled cigarette butt from his lips and smothered it in an ash tray. "Ah..yah." Cid mimicked his answer from before. He had no clue what he was answering to.

"Are you alright?" She tilted her head and pulled the yellow scrunchie from her long, brown hair, and it fell in a sexy little curtain around her pretty little face. Brows furrowed over hazel eyes in slight concern. Since when did Captain Cid Highwind agree to cook dinner? Sure, it was a joke, but Shera wasn't expecting him to say yes. Was he getting sick?

"M'fine, Shera. Don' you give me that face." Like she was about to whip out the thermometer and the cough syrup. He knew that look all too well. "I ain't sick. Just thinkin'. That's all." Thinking that he would have never known Shera had such a nice, round ass under that ugly yellow sweater and lab coat_. Goddamn_ he loved it when she wore those fucking short shorts.

"So…are you going to cook…?" She slowly pulled open the creaky refrigerator door to collect a bottle of water.

"What?! Hell no! I'm not tryina burn the whole fuckin' house down!" Cid dismissed whatever he agreed to a moment ago, snagged his working gloves from the top of the table, and stood from his chair. The dog tag around his neck glinted in the evening light that poured through a window. Cid moved away from the patchy green rug under the dining table and followed closely behind when his wife began to move again. She padded across the hard wood in the direction of the room she had been tinkering in. He assumed she wanted his approval for the car engine. Honestly, Shera probably cared more about the piece of shit than he did, and Cid was the one who dragged it in the house from a junk yard in the first place.

A flickering work lamp that hung from the ceiling lazily swayed with the pushing of a vent that wasn't blowing anything but hot air. Shera twisted on another rusty lamp and shooed away the moths that fluttered out from behind the yellowed bulb. "Feel free to check it over. If the pistons aren't the problem, I can always double check somewhere else. I know it's not the spark, but maybe there's a blocked valve somewhere." She rambled; one hand on her hips, the other holding on to the bottle she took from the kitchen. The water must have been nice and cold because despite the disgusting temperature on the inside of the garage, goose bumps rose on Shera's arms, and her nipples perked up right beneath the cover of her shirt.

_Would you stop doing that?! _When the hell did he get this perverted? _What the fuck are you? _Maybe he'd always been this way and his libido was buried deep under five thousand layers of _blind bitterness. You're thirty four goddamit, not fourteen!_

"Let's see what we got here, neh?" Cid rubbed his hands and popped open the tattered blue hood. He could see some of the work that Shera had been doing, and what area went untouched. There were plenty areas that needed repair, and his eyes would catch broken parts, but for now they both focused on the inner mechanisms of the car's bread and butter. "I don' see nothing wrong with the pistons now. Don't really feel like startin' it up neither. It's hot as hell in here. That'll just be extra heat."

"Oh." Shera shortly nodded in agreeing they should wait. "Hadn't thought of that. We can always turn the key later this evening when it's cooler." She pivoted back to assessing the exterior of the broken down vehicle with her eyes; soon deep in thought.

"Uh, huh." Cid grunted and folded the hood stand back into its slot. The top fell with a heavy 'thunk', and he brushed the rust and oil on his palms on to his pants. Going about his usual bold nature, he came around a stack of tires, and stopped behind his busy-body wife to place his hands on her hips. She raised her water bottle to her lips, and curiously peered over her shoulder. Cid's teeth (this was experimentation) gently grazed the soft shell of her ear while her back was pulled flush against his chest. She didn't seem to mind. So being a little mischievous was alright?

"I know what piston you'cn lubricate." Cid's voice and chin stubble tickled the soft patch of skin beneath Shera's earlobe.

She snorted; loosing almost all the water she had in her mouth. "That was _horrible._" Shera laughed her jingly little laugh and granted her husband's hairy forearms an appreciative pat.

"C'mon, Shera. Work with me." He turned her around in his light grip. Shera's bottom met the slightly rusted side of the car's shell.

"Depends on what we're working on, Captain." She purred while looking Cid dead in his eyes. Covered in motor oil, slicked in sweat, and gazing at him with those big forest doe eyes. So goddamn sexy.

"How's 'bout you lay back," he placed his hands on her stomach and pushed her toward the spaciousness of the hood "and I can show you." Shera signaled to Cid that she was comfortable by her lack of resistance. She allowed him to move her how he wanted and braced herself on her elbows. She was blushing, more than the first night they were together before the dawn of Meteor, but was inquisitive of what her husband planned to do with her so openly spread out in the garage.

His fingers found her soft, but not quite wet yet. He tugged down those glorious shorts, and her panties fell to the floor after. Cid touched her almost methodically; taking her apart and assessing her parts. One hand gripping a breast, his thumb applied a gentle pressure to that little thing he knew she loved having touched until she was wet enough to allow a steady finger inside.

"_Cid…_" Shera mouthed his name and opened up her legs a little more. She followed the pump and rhythmic curl of his finger, and met his paced motions with the slow gyrating of her hips. Blue eyes met hazel again and soundlessly asked if all of this was okay. Hell yeah, it was.

"I'd lick you, but I gottah be drunk t'put my tongue down there." He tactlessly informed her. Cid pulled his slicked finger from her lips to unbutton the fly of his pants. "C'mere, Shera." He moved as far up as he could after tugging his already stiffened girth from his underwear.

"I'll keep it in mind the next time you want to drink." Sometimes, Shera surprised him with her ability to be so coy.

"You'd ever return the favor?" That was a semi-serious question. Cid was still getting over the fact that this wasn't weird at all for them to do, or to have a conversation over in the first place. He guided her down, groin against groin, and aligned himself. When he began to thrust, Shera removed her glasses and arched her back from the rusty car hood.

"I don't think I'd have to be drunk to put my tongue down there." She was looking for something to grab on to; pads of her fingers loudly squeaking over the metal she rested on.

"Shit." Cid grunted, pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and rocked into her with more vigor. "Woman, you ought t'hear yourself." He expelled something like a whine, something like a sigh though his nose. He didn't know how long he was going to be able to take her squeezing, and good glory, she was making that _noise_.

Both close to a finish, Cid threw his back into his last few thrusts and deeply groaned as he came. He road out his orgasm with Shera's legs tightly clamped at his hips. She panted, lips parted in a soft 'o' while she blinked the stars from her eyes. Cid's scratchy chin brushed her cheek and sweat rolled down from his brow. He kissed her along her neck, jaw, the corner of her mouth, and then unknotted her legs from his hips. They were both stupidly hot, but comfortably exhausted while they cleaned up and righted their clothes.

"Shera." Cid leaned against the car at her side and tugged a cigarette out from the box under the strap of his goggles.

"Hm?" She yawned.

"I like you wearn' them shorts round' the house. Got a nice pair of legs on ya." He took a drag from the filter and offered it to Shera; thinking about now, she might have wanted to share.

"Thank you." She shook her head and Cid was content with sucking down the tobacco by himself. "I always figured you did."


End file.
